


Putting It Back Together Again

by errantcomment



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: Harry is bad at this, M/M, Other, Unrequited Love, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantcomment/pseuds/errantcomment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've put it as Harry/Perry, but it's really not as simple as that. Love comes bubbling up in all sorts of odd ways.</p><p>Shame you have to beat up a guy to get him to talk about it, really.</p><p>Beta'd by some complete asshole.</p><p>This was going to be my Yuletide, but I chickened out over the violence at the last minute and gave my person something else. Now I'm giving it to them anyway, because they didn't hate the original Yuletide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting It Back Together Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meh_guh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/gifts).



She walked into my office like a cool drink on a hot day. Except it was like 40 out and she had the sniffles. And technically, it wasn’t my office. It was just this little side-room with a desk and filing cabinet off Perry’s office. Whatever, shut up, I’m his PA. That’s where PAs go. Anyway, she was wearing a long coat and tight jeans with those slipper fur-lined bootie things but she still managed a sultry smile, which was nice of her I guess.

“Mr Van Shrike?” She took me in, clearly working out my potential as Perry Van Shrike, and her smile was still there but the rest of her face seemed to be taking a holiday from it. I get that a lot.

“No,” I admitted. “I’m his uh, his PA.”

“Oh.” The smile joined the rest of her face on holiday in a hurry.

“Well, tell him I’m here, will you? Celia Flockhart.” She said it like it was this huge fucking deal she was even talking to me but I’ve been patronised and ignored by better. I looked at the appointments spreadsheet, and unfortunately, she was on there.

“One moment.” I gave her my best fuck you ma’am smile (Harmony taught me it but I get to practise it a lot), and called through to Perry’s office. He picked up and breezed through my hello.

“No you can’t go on a coffee run, go home early, or put the radio on.”

I rolled my eyes and decided to ignore him.

“It’s iTunes, not the radio. And your two o’ clock is here. Ms Celia Flockhart?”

“Oh right. Show her in. Have you offered her coffee?”

“No, I—”

“You are the worst secretary in the world.” And the asshole hung up.

“PA,” I told the empty line, and smiled at Ms Flockhart again. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Is it decaf?”

What kind of mad person would drink decaf out of preference?

“No, sorry.”

She swept past me. A no on the coffee then. I followed her, didn’t manage to open the door and had to stand on tiptoe to see around her and her enormous patent leather bag. Perry stood up when we came in, all charm and Armani. She fluttered when he shook her hand and batted her eye-lashes. Perry made out he was flattered, and I thought I might drown in all the bullshit flirtation. So I took my usual place in the corner of the room and picked up a yellow legal pad from underneath my chair. Ms Flockhart’s eyes flicked to me as she sat opposite Perry and crossed her long legs.

“Mister Van Shrike. Must we discuss this little matter with your office boy here? After all, my position is delicate…”

“I’m a PA,” I interrupted. Her and Perry both glared at me. Jeez, some people.

“You can talk freely in front of Harry, Ms Flockhart. He’s just here to take notes.” Perry folded his big hands on the table, all business. “Between you and me, he doesn’t have the brains to tell tales anyway. You know what it’s like when cousins marry.”

I scowled at him. Ms Flockhart, reassured, started her story.

It turned out Perry was right about PI work being kind of monotonous. Ms Flockhart, who had this talk show where she paraded brave little cancer kids and plucky against-the-odds types, thought that her husband Barkley, who was the socialite non-specific millionaire type, was having an affair. That’s right folks, another cheating boyfriend case, just like, nine out of ten of all our our cases. I stifled a yawn as I scrawled on the pad. Ms Flockhart was like pretty much any Hollywood type faced with the glamor of a PI’s office. She’d be a while, crying and pretending she’s Lauren Bacall or whatever. You know, before I showed up, Perry used to just take his own notes, but nowadays he made me do it. I guess it looked good for business, if you could afford to have a guy whose entire job was to sit there and take notes and stuff. Anyway, I guess now’s a pretty good time to bring you up to speed. After last Christmas, I was pretty much stranded in LA with no job and a hella medical bill. I called New York and found out that my asshole roommate told everyone that I was dead and sold all my shit. So I was staying with Harmony but she went totally crazy over… Something, I don’t even remember, and kicked me out. I swear to god, the woman’s like a fucking cuckoo clock. It’s all tick-tick-tick aw Harry, I can’t believe it took so long, and then suddenly she’s throwing plates and I have to clear the hell out before someone calls the cops. And no, we are not currently seeing each other. Last time we spoke, she hit me with a snow-globe. So, yeah. Anyway, so I figured I was shit out of luck and going to live in a dumpster for the rest of my life, and I was hanging round this bar when Perry came out of it. It turned out this bar just happened to be LA’s premier night-spot for queers and their steers. Perry looked really pissy (even though that’s pretty normal for him) and said,

“Harry Lockhart? The fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh… Waiting for you?” I wasn’t, not really. I was lost, right?

“Who’s this?” There was this little dark-haired guy with a stupid goatee hanging off Perry and giving me a funny look.

“A… An acquaintance.” Which was pretty harsh, considering. He hadn’t stopped glaring. Stupid Goatee looked back and forth between us.

“Uh… Huh. Shall I just go and stand over there for a moment?” And he did, staring out across the street. Perry grabbed my arm.

“Hey, ow.”

He pushed me backwards.“What the fuck—”

“Harmony kicked me out.”

“That’s a surprise?” Perry sighed. “And you’ve just been wandering the streets?”

“Yes. I’m gonna sleep in a dumpster tonight, which’ll beat the hell out of an alley I guess but like, I’m pretty sure dumpsters are prime real estate so like, I guess I’ll have to go find one soon and hope whoever else wants it doesn’t have a knife made out of a spoon or whatever…”

Perry shook me until I stopped talking and rolled his eyes.

“Augh. Don’t—Just. Augh.” He dropped my arm and went to speak to Stupid Goatee Guy and they had a conversation with their heads close together. I should have been glad I couldn’t hear it, if the look Stupid Goatee Guy was giving Perry and me was anything to go by. Finally, he got on tiptoe and kissed Perry on the cheek and went back into the bar, raising his eyebrows at me as he went by. Perry scrubbed his face, looking at me.

“Christ, you really are the last puppy in the shop.”

“What?”

“Come on, Fido.”

He took me home and put me on the couch. Even gave me a proper duvet and a pillow.

 

“Hey, Harry!” Oh dang. Ms Flockhart raised an eyebrow as Perry’s pen landed on my pad.

“Sorry?” I tried to look attentive. Perry had a professional poker face on. I didn’t trust it.

“Go and get the contract papers.” I assume Perry repeated, since Ms Flockhart gave him a sympathetic look. I stood up too fast and had to walk off a head-rush. I fetched the relevant papers, Ms Flockhart paid in cash so I gave her a receipt, and Perry showed her out the office. Her handbag caught me in the eye as she left.

“Where the fuck is your head today, Harry?” Perry demanded when she was gone, crowding me behind my desk.

“Uh, on my shoulders I guess.” I rubbed at my eye, feeling a little put-upon.

“Oh my god. Just… Go get me a bagel or something.” Perry flapped a hand at me, the other covering his eyes. I did as he told me. He’s so weird. Like, when he found out about my medical bills, he yelled at me for like five minutes and stomped off, leaving me feeling guilty for getting shot, which was all his fault anyway, by the way. Anyway, he came back and told me to put something decent on because I looked like the reject bin at Goodwill. Harsh, right? And he took me to this lunch meeting and I took notes about this guy’s PA who was probably selling company secrets, and then I like totally accidentally bumped into her later buying a hot-dog at this one stand her boss mentioned she liked. And that took a week of hot-dogs for lunch. Anyway,I found her wallet ‘cause it had accidentally jumped out of her bag and I’d found it and stuff and it actually turned out that probably her boss just wanted rid of her because the baby was his and when I told him Perry just gave me this look and asked the ceiling ‘Why me? Oh, right.’ Anyway, now, I like live in his spare room and sit in on meetings and help out where I can. Turns out you can’t have a criminal record and be a PI. Perry says most of my pay goes on my medical bills and like, wear and tear on the bed or something. But whatever, there always seems to be some money in my account. I don’t really like to talk about it. I’m kind of worried that if I did talk about it he’d stop doing it.

 

So anyway, ate most of the burnt one standing over the sink, to save on washing up, and a glass of milk because bagels and milk is awesome and Perry yells if I drink it from the carton. When Perry’s was done I smeared cream cheese on it and took it back to the office. Perry was rifling through the filing cabinet.

“You fucking move everything. What is wrong with you—” He swatted at me like I was some sort of yappy dog that just pissed on the carpet.

I ducked his hand and found what he wanted like, instantly. “Hey, your filing system sucked,” I told him around a mouthful of bagel.

“Hey, who’s name on the door, huh?” Perry snatched the paper off me. He has like, no manners.

“Only ‘cause you took mine down.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, because it was on a piece of cardboard, idiot.” Perry slammed the door behind him. He always does that if he thinks he’s losing.

I typed up my notes from Ms Flockhart in between playing Solitaire and doing a math assignment. (About two months ago Perry slapped the papers for my GED in front of me and any secretary—uh, PA, of his was to have finished high school). It’s generally pretty quiet in the mid-afternoon, so I had plenty of time to finish my assignment. Well, I would have finished it but Harmony called. Fucking Harmony. I grunted when I picked up my phone.

“I’m sorry about the snow-globe,” she said at once.

“Whatever.”

“I am! Look, I gotta work tonight, but you should totally come too. It’s like a party so I can totally get you in. We can… talk.” The pause was pregnant with possibilities. Some of them probably involved nudity.

“Why do I want to go to a party and watch you be a professional hooker?” Hey, that snow-globe really hurt, okay?

“Harry…” She sounded tired. I felt bad.

“Look, don’t worry about it—” I started. The tart comment meant that the night definitely wasn’t going to end up with either of us nude. Not in a good way, anyway.

“Go to the goddamn party.” Perry was standing in the door, holding his mobile.

“Did you text Perry?” I demanded. Harmony didn’t say anything, the minx.

“Go to the party, make up with Harmony. Don’t come home till tomorrow.” Perry took the phone off me. “He’ll be there, Harmony. No problem. Yep. I will. Bye.” And he hung up.

“I don’t want to go.” I protested.

“Don’t whine… Go to the party. I have a date tonight, and having you hanging around like the Ghost of Exes Past is a total cock-block.”

“Ew. Fine.” Okay, to be fair, I didn’t mind. The last guy I’d met thought Perry had brought me home for a threesome. Which is just, never going to be my thing, like, at all. Not with two guys anyway, since like, eventually someone’s got to be the girl, right? And... Well, I was the smallest out of us, you know? Perry dates a lot. Generally I don’t meet them, or I might see them once or twice. I don’t know what happens to them. To be honest, I don’t really feel like I should ask. It’s like, weird, right?

So I went to the party. I even dressed up a bit. Perry caught me putting on my shoes.

“How do you get this shit creased so fast?” He shook out my jacket and held it out for me to put on. He does that sometimes. He tried to smooth the material over my shoulders and made a noise of disgust as he stepped back.

“You might as well not have bothered with the dry-cleaning, chief.” He opened the door and pointed. “Out. Don’t let Harmony cut anything off. Again.”

“Oh ha ha.” I grumbled. He thinks he’s so fucking funny. Maybe I should just chop off one of his fingers, see how he likes relearning to use the TV remote.

 

At the party, Harmony was wearing this green mini-skirt get up like Santa’s Sluttiest Elf. It was the two weeks before Christmas, and LA was easing into the party season. She kissed me on the cheek, made a face at the stubble, which was pretty rude considering I shaved and all, and pushed a drink into my hand before whirling off to do a kicky little dance number in the centre of the room. I mingled. In LA, contacts are everything, especially for a PI… Or their assistant. Shut up, it’s legitimately a thing. At that moment, I was mingling with a large vodka cranberry. A redheaded girl with great legs and the sort of rack you could lose yourself in, your loyal native guide and an entire team of huskies in smiled at me.

“Up here, cowboy.” At least someone noticed my awesome boots. Perry said they made me look gayer than him. I think he’s just jealous that I can pull them off. He’d look like a truck driver from Texas in cowboy boots.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry.”

“It’s no big thing. I’m Ariel. Cruel parents.”

“Hi, I’m Harry. Boring parents. Want a drink?”

“Eggnog and a tequila.”

“Oh.” I made a face and she was quick to reassure me.

“No no, it totally makes sense. With the tequila, you say goodbye to summer, and the eggnog sets up the holiday as you mean to go on.”

“Oh.” That didn’t actually sound like a bad idea, so I had the same.

By the fourth tequila we were giggling hysterically. She kept banging the table, which made her boobs bounce. Not that I was looking.

I was totally looking.

“No no, you don’t understand.” She was telling me, stabbing at the bar with a finger. “There is no such thing as a good man.”

“I agree.” I replied, solemnly. I didn’t want the boobs to get too out of control. Anything could happen. I might drown.

“For example, I am so sure my boyfriend’s cheating on me. but I can’t say anything ‘cause then I’m a crazy bitch and there’s another martyr guy out there.”

“Damn straight.” I nodded, piously. We lined up more shots and forgot the eggnog.

“You know, I could sort that out for you.” I coughed out. Shots weren’t really my thing.

“What?” She stared at me glassily.

“My boss is like, a private eye. You know, like the movies.”

“Would you?” A big guy trying to buy beer jogged my arm.

I sucked tequila off my hand absently. “Sure.”

“Only, I’m so sure he’s hiding something from me…” She gave me big green eyes and the big guy jogged me again.

“No problem. Just come and see me in my office.” Even in my state, I thought that maybe telling her that Perry’s office was my office wasn’t such a good idea. “Uh, how about you give me a call tomorrow, okay?” I wrote my name and number on a napkin. We had more shots to celebrate. Harmony sat down next to us, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Harmony! Hey, Harmony, this is uh…”

“Ariel.”

“There we go. Ariel is cera—celebrating the acceptance of the new season.” I informed Harmony.

“Harry, are you drunk?” She leaned back when I tried to pat her cheek reassuringly. “You are drunk.” She sighed and gave me a dirty look. “What would Perry say?”

“Don’t care. Perry’s a butt. A big gay butt.” I giggled and Harmony rolled her eyes. “Hey guess what Harmony? Ariel’s got a case for me and Perry.”

“That’s good.” Harmony patted my shoulder.

“Okay we should have another shot. You too, Harmony.”

Ariel suddenly went pale and covered her hand with her mouth before rushing off. I stumbled after her into the yard—I was worried she might hurt herself, or something, I guess, and found her throwing up behind a bush. I hate vomit, but I managed to grab her long red hair and hold it back without joining her. I’m pretty sure that if I’d thrown up on her back it would have made me the worst person in the world. She finished up and wiped her mouth.

“Too much celebrating.” She sat on her ass on the damp grass untidily. One of her boobs almost popped out and I kind of wanted to push it back into place.

“I’ll, uh. Water.” I staggered upright and stumbled into the house. When I got back with some mouthwash I’d found in a bathroom and some water, she was lying on the grass passed out with some guy standing over her.

“Hey, get away from her!” I yelled.

“You gonna make me?” He crouched beside her, one hand skimming her body. “Don’t tell me a loser like you picked up a fine piece like this.”

“Hey. I won’t tell you again buddy.” I stepped up. He was actually huge. Damn.

“Who are you calling buddy? I suggest you step the fuck down, soldier.” I stared up at him. Suddenly I felt pretty sober.

“No.” I dashed the mouthwash in his face and he yelped and stumbled back. I followed it up by head-butting him in the guy and the air went out of him in a whoosh. I staggered backwards, seeing stars, because goddamn that hurt way more than I thought it would.

“Hey, who’s beating on Mike?” Footsteps ran towards us and someone grabbed me by the scruff of the neck. I could hear Mike throwing up and Ariel groaning and asking where she was.

“Hey, let go of me! He shouldn’t have gone near her.” I yelped, dropping the glass of water.

“You little squit. Look what you did to Mike.” His friend shook me like a dog with it’s favourite toy.

“He deserved it!” I yelled and his other friend slapped me across the face. Ariel had wisely got the fuck out of Dodge, and Mike straightened up and cracked his knuckles. I struggled some more.

“Hold him still, man,” Mike said. “Let’s teach him to mind his own business.”

I was going to get the shit kicked out of me, I just knew it. Typical.

“Let him go, boys.” It was Perry. 

“Fuck off, willya? We’re going to teach the little pipsqueak a lesson.” Dave explained.

“Well, he won’t learn it. Can’t be taught, that one.” Perry had his hands in his pockets, and even drunk and miserably resigned to my fate, I could tell he had no chance. So I just hung between these two huge guys and generally felt like a piñata watching a kid put on a blindfold.

“Well, I can try. My mother always wanted me to be a teacher.” Mike smiled.

“No, you won’t try. You’ll put him down, and walk away.”

“You and whose army?” Mike sneered.

Perry took a baggie out of his pocket. It was held shut with a little white twisty thing, and contained some white powder.

“This is finest Bolivian marching powder.” He tossed it to Mike, who caught it automatically. “Now, say a concerned citizen phoned up our fine police-force and said he saw some gentlemen such as yourselves in the back-yard of a party house apparently conducting illicit transactions, what do you think would happen to those gentlemen, especially since the DA is having such issues with rising drug crime?”

Mike stared at the bag and back up at Perry. I could see the muscles he used to think with stirring weakly. I don’t suppose they got as much of a workout as the rest of him.

“Put him down,” Mike finally muttered, and I fell to the ground with an ‘oof’. I stayed down. It seemed like the best plan.

“You’re a mess.” Perry’s shoes appeared and he hauled me up-right by my jacket.

“Hey Perry,” I mumbled as he dusted me off, briskly. “This girl… Wait, how did you know where I was?”

“Harmony called. She said you were drunk off your ass and probably about to start a fight.”

“Oh.” Even though that statement was totally unfair—I never actively try to start fights, they just… Happen around me. But I wasn’t going to argue. I wasn’t feeling so good. My jaw ached where that guy had slapped me, and I felt half-throttled from being shaken about. Perry took me in and rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.”

 

The rest of the night’s a bit of a blur. Mainly I remember little bits like this:

“I’m gonna be President and then everything will be great. I’ll fix it all, you’ll see.”

“Convicted felons can’t be President, slugger. If you puke in my car, I’ll drop kick your scrawny ass into the lake.”

“…You should definitely stop then.”

“Jesus Christ…”

 

I woke up with a vague memory of someone drawing a quilt over me and telling me to sleep it off, chief. I was pretty sure the hand ruffling my hair was some weird-ass Oedipal dream though. I have the craziest dreams when I drink tequila.

There were a couple of Advil and a glass of water by my bed. My head felt like Elmer the Elephant was learning to tap-dance, and some complete asshole had carpeted my tongue. I popped the Advil and lay? Lie? Laid... Well, whatever, I didn’t move again till the room stopped spinning. Once I was sure which way up actually was, I felt about for my sunglasses, and picked up my jacket on the way out.

“Good morning starshine.” Perry was already up and dressed and looked fresh as the morning dew. And I bet he’d already been to the gym. Just looking at him made my teeth hurt.

“Argh,” I mumbled, stumbling to the coffee machine. Perry never remembers to refill the damn thing after he finishes it, the big gay butt-face. I didn’t speak while it was brewing. Perry was radiating smug energy from the other end of the kitchen as he fixed his breakfast, which is unbearable even when I’m not wondering if the top of your head could just sort of unhinge and drop off. I went outside into the chilly morning, where I shrugged my jacket on and sat on the edge of the patio and lit up. I was about halfway through the cigarette, enjoying the slowly-warming sun, when my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognise, so I answered it.

“Lockhart.”

“Harry? It’s Ariel. You said I should give you a call.”

“Oh, hi. Uh, are you okay?” I tried to pretend I wasn’t sitting on a damp patio because I wasn’t allowed to smoke anywhere else. Maybe I could convince her that I was on a balcony enjoying half-a-grapefruit after my morning yoga session, although even Perry’s not that masochistic...

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t really get hangovers. I felt a bit icky this morning but I jogged it off.” I decided I could learn to hate Ariel, just a little bit.

“So, can I meet you to talk about my case?” Oh shit, that’s right. The thing was, I knew Perry wouldn’t take it on, not without a lot of fuss. For a guy who makes a living spying on people having affairs, he has pretty particular rules. Even assuming that Ariel could pay for it, in LA there was entirely too much possibility of upsetting someone important, and unfortunately, Ariel just didn’t have the sort of rep that could protect us from it.

“Uh, tell you what, tell me about it, I’ll note it all down and get back to you when I’ve talked to my boss.”

My cigarette finished, I laid back on the damp wood and listened to her yammer soothingly in my ear. It was pretty much the worst case scenario. Her sugar daddy was footing the bills while she tried to get her big break, but more recently he’d been coming to see her less and less, and been more and more secretive. It sounded pretty open and shut to me, and to be honest, with an outcome that obvious I didn’t think Perry’d take it on. I kind of felt sorry for Ariel. She was like so many girls in LA, pretty and nice, and so fucking crazy with daddy issues it was unfair.

“I gotta tell you Ariel, uh, I’m not sure my boss will go for it.”

She made a little disappointed noise down the phone. “You don’t understand Harry, I have to know. How would you feel if you were in my position. I can pay! I can work it out…” She sounded miserable. I sighed and sat up in one movement. My head redoubled the efforts on its drum solo.

“I’ll… Look, I’ll look into it, okay?” Look, I didn’t want her to cry at me, okay? And my head really hurt. I needed a shower. I needed the Cure. I needed to not be sitting on damp floorboards.

“Really?”

“Sure, I’ll get back to you.” Once I felt better, I could call her and tell her that I couldn’t take the case because my boss wouldn’t let me, and advise that she just talked to her boyfriend. Easy. I went back indoors where Perry was checking his e-mail at the breakfast bar with an empty plate next to him.

“How was your date?” I yawned.

“Not bad, except I had to save your drunken idiot candy ass instead of getting into his.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah. I should have let those guys beat shit out of you.” Perry shrugged and closed his laptop. “You owe me, butch.” And he strolled past me.

“Butch?” I asked the fridge. It didn’t answer. It never did. I decided it was time for The Cure.

 

The Cure is the only thing for a hangover. And that’s Cure as in Kill Or, not the sad music band. I always go to the same diner, the only place that gets it exactly right, and it goes something like this. Four eggs, underdone and sunny side up. Six rashers of bacon, crispy. Short stack, gravy, tomato juice on the side. If you don’t feel ill when it comes out, you’re not hung-over enough. If you make it through without throwing up, you can reward yourself with pie and coffee.

I picked the last few crumbs off my plate with my finger. I was feeling much better, although my head still gave a queasy pound if I moved it too fast. I sat back to finish my coffee and wondered if I should tell Perry about Ariel. I mean, it didn’t sound good. If nothing else, I’d just remembered that she’d never told me the name of her sugar daddy. It was almost certain Perry wouldn’t go for it, even though she deserved an answer like any fucked up girl in LA. Maybe I could go home and tell him that. I had all the necessary information, I even had the address of Sugar Daddy’s condo. It would be easy. I put my sunglasses back on, tipped the waitress a couple of bucks and headed out, resolved.

However, instead of heading back to Perry’s, I found my feet carrying me away down town, to a little bit of suburbia mainly taken up with well-to-do types. It was a nice day, I was enjoying a walk. Nothing wrong with enjoying a walk, is there? Or a two-hour bus ride. I soon found myself, completely by accident, at Sugar Daddy’s pad. I hadn’t meant to, I was just walking along. Like people do. And like, I thought I saw this dog, like, a black one with a bright red collar, which made me think that I should probably like, find out if it was lost, ‘cause it was just like, rushing through all these gardens, right? So like, I went round the back of this condo and I looked through all the bushes by the house, and near the pool, which was one of those you see on the news ‘cause some guy turned up shot in it. And then I thought it had maybe crawled underneath ‘cause like, once at my folks’ house this raccoon got under the house and like, died, and it took us like three weeks and an awful lot of pine-scented air-freshener to find it, seriously, I always think of raccoons when I smell pine-scented cleaner but yeah, where was I? Oh yeah, so I looked around. It was a really nice place, actually, like, all these really clean windows you could see right through, even though it was pretty dark in there. In fact, I was pretty sure… I pushed the door to check and tried the handle. It looked like the back-door was unlocked! They must have been in a hurry to leave that morning or something. What kind of citizen would I be if I didn’t have a look inside to make sure nothing was stolen. So I poked about a bit, there wasn’t anything incriminating, but I’d forgotten my gloves so… I mean, they’d left their computer off… Um. Well, whatever, I closed the back-door and left.

At least, that’s how I told it to Perry when I got in and he demanded to know where I’d been. He rolled his eyes and slapped me round the back of the head.

“Ow.” I glared up at him from where I was sitting on the couch and rubbed my head. I kept expecting me to tell him I was going to end up in juvie if I didn’t straighten up and fly right.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have taken the case. And now some rich, influential guy probably has camera footage of you breaking into his house. Did you touch anything?”

“No, do I look like an idiot? Anyway, I told you, the door was unlocked.” Perry reached out and I flinched, but he just pulled my lock-pick kit out of my jacket.

“Unlocked?” He held it distastefully, which was kind of rude because they are really nice lockpicks.

No, of course it wasn't fucking unlocked. Why did he think I’d taken them with me? “Yes. I said, didn’t I? It was unlocked.” 

Perry tossed the little leather roll back to me. “I can’t even talk to you right now. Just… Go somewhere else till I tell you to come back. Can you do that for me? Without committing petty crimes?”

“Oh shut up.” I grumbled and banged the door behind me. Perry can be such an ass. I had a perfectly good lead there, and it wasn’t like Melissa didn’t deserve an answer. Anyway, it’s not even like I’d got caught. Or would be caught. If anyone was gonna check the tapes, they would have by now, right? I was thinking all this as I walked to the bakery. I was going to buy a really delicious pastry and then eat it and not take anything back for Perry. So there.

I was just coming out of the bakery when I got mugged. These two assholes popped out of a goddamned alley.

“Hey, give me your wallet.” 

“You’re not even going to ask me for a light?” I was already scanning around me for a way out. 

“What?”

“Oh come on, is this this like, the first time you’ve mugged someone?” I don’t know that taunting them was my best plan, but that was what I was doing.

“Nope.” One of them suddenly had a switch-blade. “Hand over your wallet, or I’ll gut you, alright?” 

I know when I’m out-numbered. I tugged at my wallet, resigned. It caught on my deck of cards (you never know when they might come in handy) and tugged them out too. One of the toughs grabbed it off the ground.

“Bonus,” he chortled.

I tried to grab them off him. “Hey come on, the deal was the wallet.”

He tossed the cards to his buddy and I tried to grab them out of mid-air. Buddy tossed them back. It was like, some really pathetic game of piggy-in-the-middle, and not even close to funny because who does that sort of shit anyway? I gave them two chances to give my cards back. Then I kicked the smaller of the two in the knee-cap. Hey, I’m not an idiot. The bigger one still hit me in the face, even though he wasn’t the one I kicked. How is that even fair?

So they stole my wallet. And my favourite deck of cards. Which just figured really. So I went home, since even if Perry was still mad with me at least he wouldn’t steal my favourite deck of cards. I tossed the bag of pastries onto his lap where he was sitting on the sofa.

“Who shat in your cereal?”

“Oh, I got mugged.” I sloped into the kitchen to make coffee. I didn’t really want to talk about it with Perry, I was still mad about being thrown out.

“Really?” He followed me into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope that asshole gets caught playing with my deck.” I groused. Yeah, I was pissed about the cards. I’d used them to relearn card magic after I’d lost my finger. They had sentimental value, plus I’d marked them all up the way I liked. And that shit takes forever.

“Good thing you left your phone at home, really,” Perry commented. “We’ve got work to do by the way, not all of us spent the afternoon breaking and entering random houses.”

“I’m not coming. I’m busy.” He’d put the bag of pastries on the breakfast bar so I grabbed one and made for my room. He blocked the door. It’s so unfair, he’s like, as wide as I am tall and he manages to make it impossible to duck under his arms. And he won’t tell me how he does it.

“No you’re not. Ms Flockhart called, she said her husband is going to their country house for the weekend to ‘fish’.”

“Oh.” I was interested, despite myself. “Are we going too?”

“Yep.” He snatched the pastry off me just as I was about to take a bite.

“Hey!”

“Don’t whine, chief. You’re on camera duty.” He patted me on the cheek and waltzed off with my pastry.

I like helping Perry with the detective thing. Like, it can be pretty fun. Once we ended up following a lead all the way up to Vancouver, and he gets me in whenever he needs someone who can speak Spanish (long story), and some of the stuff you uncover. Woa. Someone once said that sexy is using the feather and kinky is using the whole chicken, but seriously, some of these people have gone beyond chickens and are well into turkey country. The only thing is, in the day-to-day business of things, detective work is pretty damn tedious. And camera duty is by far the worst. My actual job is to sit there and keep an eye out for cops, security guards, people walking their dog, or whatever, while Perry sneaks about trying to take a decent photo. Apparently I get this job because I ‘look too dumb to be trouble’ which is a pretty harsh thing to say to someone who’s done time for armed robbery. But whatever, not like I have a choice. And sometimes I get to see boobs. Although it’s more likely to be pasty middle-aged man boobs. I sighed and put my jacket back on. Being a PI is so unglamorous.

Anyway, it was almost dark by the time we got out there. And it was a gated community.

“Aw, shit.” Perry sighed and pulled over on the other side of the road. “I asked her if there was anything we should know about the goddamn house. I asked her.”

“Bummer. Can we go home?” I’d just woken up from a light doze. The car trip had reawakened the acidity of my hangover, probably not helped by the half-a-dozen donuts I’d picked up at the Krispy Kreme. Shut up. I was hungry, okay?

“Nope, we’re here now. Come on chief, time to shine.”

Okay so here’s the thing. Perry can’t pick locks. Because that would be incredibly illegal. However, if I happen to be on a walk in the area, and suddenly feel the urge to resort to my old ways, well, I guess that’s still pretty illegal, and Perry always yells at me and makes me buy pastries but then like,he pays me for it, and look, I don’t have to justify myself to you guys. Anyway, I went round the side where there was a little entrance for like, gardeners and shit, I guess. The lock wasn’t that hard, disappointingly. I could have busted it with a hairpin. Clearly the rich folk who lived on the other side never considered someone doing something like, as gauche as breaking in the side entrance. Anyway, I had to go find out if Barkley was playing an illicit game of hide-the-salami and report back to Perry, who would then conveniently notice the gate was open and as a concerned citizen feel obliged to investigate as an upstanding member of society. Or something. I dunno, I fade in and out a lot.

Anyway, I slipped in round back and tried to get close enough to see what was going on.

“Hey—” someone said behind me. I turned round, and someone hit me really hard on the head.

This really irritates me. I mean, I’m not like, getting beaten up and kidnapped every week, no matter what Perry tells you, but even if you only get hit over the head like once a month, that’s still enough to really piss you off when it does happen.

 

So, as per, they dragged me round the house and I guess up some stairs, and by the time I really felt like I should do anything about it, I was shut in a dark room. I would have been surprised if I’d woken up anywhere else. But I wasn’t tied up, which is the sign of a rank amateur in my opinion. They’d taken my little leather roll of lock-picks, my sunglasses, my flashlight, and my watch, like they thought I was like James Bond or something. They’d also taken my shoelaces, which made me wonder if one of them was a cop. Probably most of them had spent time in prison. People who hit me and put me in dark rooms usually have. I took the shoes off—they were no good to me falling off my feet, and stood there for a moment in the dark, curling my toes into the carpet. Anyway, using my usual method of stumbling about in the dark, I confirmed three things. One) I was in a bathroom. 2) I was locked in, and c) it is entirely too possible to stub your toe against a goddamn vanity in the dark. Still cursing, I picked up my shoes and yanked out the insoles. Perry would have probably killed me if he’d known, but the expensive sneakers I wore on stake-outs like this had a handy little hollow in the thick soles, perfect for a few emergency items. I closed my eyes to pick the lock with a paper-clip and a little folding gadget I’d found on eBay and the door clicked open, smooth as you like. This is the sort of thing I like about expensive cribs. Everything hushed and oiled, thick carpets to muffle any footsteps. Perfect.

I slipped out into what was probably the second-best guest bedroom. It was still dark out and the clocked flashed 03:96, which was helpful. Not. They hadn’t locked the bedroom door though, so I slipped out, still in my socks. With any luck, I could find the front door before someone found me. Or not, depending whether they looked in the bathroom or not.

Now, I don’t think I’m actually a bad guy. I’ve made bad choices, sure, but I’ve never actually killed an orphan kitten nun or anything. So with that in mind, I’d really like to know who I’ve pissed off. I got within spitting distance of the front door, I swear I did, but like, this guy who was built like the fucking Hulk knuckled out of the damn front room. I ducked into the nearest door and hoped he hadn’t seen me.

“H—hey!” He had seen me. Typical. I spun round. I was in a study, all plush velvet and dark wood and leather-bound books probably ordered from a catalogue. It even smelt a bit like pipe tobacco. On the desk was a big pile of something that looked like sugar. I was fairly sure that either the Honey Monster had a habit or I was looking at something that made Mr Barkley’s affair look like a misunderstanding between friends. Someone was trying the door. I’d locked it, but the Hulk out there wasn’t going to be stopped by cheap locks, no sir.

“Crap.” I spun as the door splintered, looking for a way out. I lunged for the bay window, and my foot caught an Oriental rug, and I went down like a sack of potatoes, except not as graceful. I face-planted into the pile of powder and rolled to the floor with it settling down on me like snow. It was not sugar, because I suddenly felt great. The door gave way behind me.

“Hey buddy! How’s it hanging?” I carolled from the floor. The Hulk did not share my good will. He slapped me round the face and dragged me off. They tied me to a chair and a tiny and sensible part of me (that actually sounded a bit like Perry, weird) finally got through to the rest of me. This was probably bad. Especially since I recognised one of the burly men.

“You! You mugged me! Hey, I want my cards back. They’re my best deck, really. And you won’t get anything—” Someone slapped me. “Hey ow. Why’d you do that?”

“Shut up. Who sent you?” The goon who spoke was cleverer than the others. The leader, or the leader’s right hand man.

“Hey, I can’t do both. I can shut up, or I can talk, but I can’t shut up and talk. I tried ventriloquism but I sucked at it.” I was still feeling pretty cheerful. The goon slapped me again. My good mood was starting to dissipate, my heart racing.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one sent me…” I didn’t know where Perry was but I had a feeling that letting the bad guys get hold of him as well would bode bad for both of us.

“Okay buddy, there are two ways we can do this. The easy way…” And here Smart Guy lit a cigarette deliberately. “Or the fun way.”

The fun way scared me more than the dramatic pause. Any heavy who’s ever said ‘the fun way’ has a uniquely unpleasant take on what ‘fun’ is. That’s how I got the bullet in my lung and a fucking electric current through my balls.

“Look, I’ll tell you anything you like. Ms Flockhart employed my boss to find out if her husband was having an affair, I swear that’s it.” I looked into Smart Guy’s eyes. My heart was gonna pound right out of my chest and I had this weird feeling of hyper-reality. Everything seemed sharper, somehow, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“That’s bullshit. Private eyes don’t employ petty thieves to break into places. You know what I think happened?”

“No, because it’s wrong—argh.” One of his men gave me a smack that raised a fine white powder off my face.

“I think you’re a lousy sneak, a snitch who got tipped off. You found the boss’ girlfriend, buddied up to her at that damn party.” I opened my mouth to protest and he tossed a few items onto the floor in front of me. Perry’s card, and Ariel’s number written on a napkin. “Don’t bother to deny it. Tell me everything you know, and you won’t die too slow.”

“What? No man, I swear, you got it all wrong. My—oh god…” he was undoing a leather tool roll. I saw pliers and started to feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I—my wallet—shit—I got mugged and my boss’ card is in my wallet I swear Jesus Christ I swear it’s true.”

“Yeah, we got your wallet after we spotted you at the condo. Only natural you’d follow a lead to his wife’s PI. Why else would you have his card?” Smart Guy pulled out a pair of wire-cutters.

“Wait, what? No, you really don’t get it, I swear.” Okay, this wasn’t as cool or collected as I would have liked, but they were really big wire-cutters. “That card’s in case of emergencies I swear, oh god, please, just call him—”

“Why the fuck would we? Oh hi there, is this guy actually your employee or am I actually going to use Winnie here? Get real, asshole.” Jesus Christ, he’d named the pliers. “Now, here’s the deal. Everytime you lie, I collect a finger. When I run out of fingers, I’ll move onto your fucking toes, okay?”

“Jesus Christ no that is not okay. What are you, nuts?” One of his friends unrolled my hands from the fists they’d made on the chair. I let him. It was either that or get them broken, I guessed.

“Now. Who sent you?” The cold metal settled over my pinky finger. Distantly, I was pissed. I did not want to relearn typing again, goddamnit. 

I was saved from answering by the door slamming open, and there was Perry in the doorway.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I yelled.

Smart Guy straightened up. “Who the fuck?”

Perry had a really big gun in his hands and right then I had never been more pleased to see the guy.

“Get away from him or I will shoot you where you die slow, dick brain.”

Smart Guy looked from him to me and seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

“And here I thought hopping into bed together was metaphorical.”

“Wait, what?” I was struggling to free myself from the nylon rope. Perry blinked as well, and that was all it took. The Hulk landed on him hard and his gun went spinning off into a corner. I stood up, at a funny angle ‘cause I was still tied to the chair and piled onto the Hulk chair legs down. He screamed and something in his back crunched under me. Someone was swearing and yelling. Lots of someones, probably. Someone yanked me and then someone else slapped me and tossed me clean across the room. I lay sprawled, trying to remember how to breathe and watching as everyone seemed to dog-pile onto Perry. My head was spinning and I couldn’t… I couldn’t…

When everything became clearer, I was lying on cool tiles. My heart was fluttering and stuttering and I felt like steam-rollered shit. My head hurt and I just wanted to go back to sleep. I couldn’t though, ‘cause someone was moaning or something, which was pissing me off because I had the start of a stunning headache, and all his moaning was going to do was to get the cops to come down and bang on the bars till he stopped doing it.

“Hey, shut up.” I mumbled. They whimpered. I opened one eye. It was dark, and I probably wasn’t in a police cell.

“Are you okay?” I was still tied to some bits of chair. I tugged on some of the knots fruitlessly and pulled a face. The other guy groaned again.

“Harry?” Okay, you’ll have to cut me some slack here, because 1) Perry never calls me Harry unless I’ve really pissed him off and B) here’s the thing. Perry’s not the sort of guy who looks ungroomed. He’s the swishest motherfucker I’ve ever met, gay or straight. Even when he’s on downtime, and like, chilling out on the sofa he still looks like a fucking shampoo ad. No, really. Shut up. There’s a point to this. Oh, yeah, c... or 3) is that I was so fucking hung-over. Whatever that white shit was had just made everything three times as terrible, and with the beating on top of that I was having a hard time remembering who I was, let alone anyone else. Anyway, I sort of limped to a light-switch and turned it on with my nose. Because I tripped on the rug. My face started to bleed again. But I forgot about it when I saw who the moaning heap in the tub was.

“Christ, Perry.” I think I said. I was cursing a lot because Jesus Fucking Christ he was bleeding from the ear. And the nose. His tie was all crooked and probably irreparably stained.

“Jesus, Perry. I’ll get you a new tie, I promise.”

“Harry, you’ve got to… You’ve got to get out, okay?” It looked like talking hurt a lot. His lip was split and the effort of talking opened it up again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get us out. Jesus Christ…”

“No, just you, idiot. Fuckers broke my leg.” It didn’t look right. All twisted up.

“Jesus Christ.” There were no fucking windows to climb out of and Perry was coughing up fucking blood. He looked bad. I needed to get him to a hospital or something.

“Okay, hold on, I’m gonna get us out.” Except I was still tied to the fucking remains of that fucking chair. I tugged at the rope, trying to work out the knots. They were good and tight, and getting tighter as I struggled. Perry was having like, these shivering fits and there was blood smeared on the bright white tiles so I smashed the vanity mirror with the wood tied to my arm. It shattered and the falling glass stopped me cold, except for the jumping jacks my heart was doing behind my eyes. But no one came, so I picked up a shard and sawed the ropes. The glass cut my fingers, which stung like a bitch but I kept going.

“H—Christ, Harry, just get will you?” Perry opened his one good eye. I went back to my ropes.

“Oh yeah, because they’ll totally go easy on one of us.”

“You’re such a—ow—a sucky knight errant.” Perry managed. His hands fluttered as he tried to pull himself upright.

“Just, hold on, okay?” I finally got the last piece of chair off. “I’m gonna get to a phone.” Come on, did you seriously think I was going to drag Perry’s bleeding and broken carcase out of there? Guy’s got like, a hundred pounds on me. I was gonna call the police and hope they weren’t too busy beating up black guys and eating donuts to come out to the lake.

 

There was one guy sitting with one eye on the door, although actually he was more involved in a conversation with someone called ‘babydoll’. I hate that, like, if you care that much you should bother to remember their name, you know? So anyway, I snuck up behind him and hit him behind the ear with a chair-leg. He kind of went ‘unk’ and fell out of the chair. I shook out my hand and picked up the phone. Someone was squawking ‘Hello? Hello?’ so I said,

“He’ll have to call you back.” And hung up. I dialled ‘9—1’ and realised I had no idea what the address was because I had been pretending to be asleep when Perry tried to tell me it. Look, shut up, I said I wasn’t feeling so good. Maybe those donuts were poisoned. Shut up, let me tell the story. Babydoll had a gun next to him, so I swapped it out for the chair leg. It was big and heavy. I’ve never liked guns, they remind me of snakes, like, you’re holding the safe end but it’s not going to stop the bad end from turning round and biting you on the eye or something. I went through the nearest door into what turned out to be the kitchen. If I called the police from the landline, the police could trace it, right? I used the glow of Babydoll’s cell-phone screen to make my way to the wall by the fridge. I picked up the white wall-phone and dialled quickly.

“I’m at the address the phone goes to, it’s a gated community by a lake. I’m being held hostage and so is my friend and there are drugs like you wouldn’t believe—” I gabbled. The light went on. “—Aw shit. Look, just send everything you’ve got and an ambulance, okay?”

There was a guy, and he was pointing a gun at me, although he cocked his head at a cuss from the hall.

“What the fuck happened to Zed?” someone yelled.

“Zed’s dead baby, Zed’s dead.” Okay, he probably wasn’t, but come on, who wouldn’t take an opportunity like that?

Zed’s buddy stepped into the room and stopped when he saw me.

“Hey, how’d you get out?”

I shrugged non-committally. “I’m Captain Fucking Magic.” Maybe I was still a little high. I dropped the phone. It chattered at me as I brought up my own gun and fired first. I didn’t even care at that moment, I didn’t want to give these bastards a chance to shoot me, because they’d probably be a lot better at it than me. As it is, one bullet whipped the other guy’s head round in a shower of blood and he squalled,

“He shot my fucking _ear_ off Jesus Christing fuck—”

I hid behind the breakfast bar and fired till all the bullets were gone. The phone was dead too. It hung in tatters from the wall. I hoped someone came, because I hadn’t hit a damn either of the goons in any meaningful way, and they looked pissed. Especially the one I’d winged in the ear.

“Shit,” I mumbled to no one in particular, and ran for the door. Luckily, the goons, whose arm muscles were pretty you know, inproportionate to brain size, weren’t expecting me to do that. The guy I knocked out was just coming round so I skidded round him and into the dining room. Barkley and his goons were huddled round the dining room table.

“What the fuck? I told you to kill that guy!” Barkley stood in front of whatever was on the table.

“We were gonna boss, but we had to get Louie to the hospital. He might never walk again.” Louie must’ve been the guy I landed my chair on. Good.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Barkley snarled. “Kill him.”

I back-pedalled and when I ran into the kitchen goons again. I tried side-pedalling instead. They came after me and I yanked at the bookcase next to me, hoping to pull it down on them. It didn’t move.

“Aw hell,” I growled. I was pretty much out of options, which was annoying.

“You know, I told a bunch of people I was coming here tonight,” I tried. “If I don’t check in, you’ll get all sorts out here.”

The goons stopped and looked obediently to their boss.

“No way. He’s lying,” Barkley said.

“No I’m not. Scout’s honour. Police’re coming right now.” Please let them be coming.

“Did he make a call?” Berkley demanded.

“Dunno boss. He was on the phone but the phone was all shot up by the time we got there.”

“For fuck’s… Fine. Fine. Don’t kill him yet. If he’s telling the truth and the cops are coming, we can claim in he broke in with his butt-buddy.”

“Wait, butt-buddy? What do you mean—” Someone hit me again. I was getting real fed up with getting punched in the face.

\---

Perry was still in the bathroom, looking terrible. Worse, in fact.

“Hey, so, I crippled the Hulk,” I told him, picking myself using the side of the tub. One of his eyes fluttered and I felt ill.

“Perry. Hey, bitchface. Don’t go to sleep, or I’ll steal your watch.”

“Fuck off,” he croaked and I felt a little relieved, like some part of the world was righting itself. But then his eye shut again and his breathing sounded pretty bad, like, rattling.

“Shit Perry, wake the fuck up. Come on man.” I knelt by the tub and loosened his collar like I was Doctor Fucking Watson. He was really pale though and where the fuck were the police?

“Hey, come on asshole.” I patted his cheek and he winced.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me big guy. Come on, police are coming. I found a phone.”

“You—you went out there? I—idiot.”

“No, you’re an idiot. You let that big ape fall on you. He wasn’t even your type.” I wasn’t really thinking about what I was saying, because I was really worried that if Perry lay himself down, it would be. Well. I didn’t want him to lay himself down. He made a coughing noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh.

“You look like shit, chief.” His hand rubbed at my cheek, feebly.

“Get off, you’ll make it worse. Or give me germs.” I was nervous. I wasn’t used to Perry being well… Relaxed. He always had that like, you know like on the Discovery Channel when the lions all lie about flicking their tails all ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight’ or whatever but then like a tasty gazelle or whatever goes by and they all leap up and it’s like goodnight Vienna for the gazelle? Yeah. Perry’s the lion. Seeing him all uncoiled was weird.

He was clocking out again so I shook him. He gave a definite ‘ow’ and opened that one eye again.

“H—Harry? I don’t care how cute you are, if you do that again I’ll pull your pretty nose off.”

“You think I’m cute? You said I looked like I was voted Most Likely To Belong To The Man With The Most Cigarettes.”

Perry cough-laughed again.

“Don’t you get it yet? You’re such an _idiot_.” And then his head fell back.

“Shit, Perry—” I leant over the tub but my jeans were clingy and wet. I thought maybe I’d peed, which was frankly embarrassing, since I thought I’d been pretty bad-ass till then. Then I looked down and realised, actually, that was blood. Mine, most likely. Then someone busted the door down yelling. I tried to grab another chair-leg but my hand had gone all tingly and numb. I looked down and the reason I’d dropped the wood was that it was also covered in blood. I remember wondering since when did wood bleed and why had it decided to bleed now? I didn’t manage to do anything else though, since at that moment I fell off a ledge and through the floor. That’s what it felt like, anyway. To be honest, I was pretty annoyed.

 

When I came to, I was on morphine and lying in a hospital bed. I floated pleasantly. Even if I was going to have someone hitting me later, right now that was not my problem, and that was okay. I idly wondered how much of my pay was going to be deducted for this particular trip. Perry was a hard-ass, but at least—Oh. Perry. Yeah. (Hey, I’m just telling it as it happens. Hold your horses.) As more of the world faded in, I irritably considered what a mysterious son-of-a-bitch that guy was. What did he mean, I didn’t get it?

I would just like to take this moment to point out I am not usually this dense, like, ever, but you can just bite me, because I had industrial quantities of hospital-grade morphine dancing in my veins. So it is completely and utterly without shame that I admit that I was counting injuries (broken wrist, nine stitches in my arm, ten in my leg where they’d dug a bullet out, a broken nose, bruises everywhere…) when it hit me. To be honest, this is a pretty weird thing to be writing about anyway, like, out loud. Like, okay, I know Perry thinks I’m okay and he likes guys and you know, stuff. But I never really thought about like, him actually, er, you know, romance and stuff. I mean, he’s pretty cagey. The type who tells you he thinks your hair looks good and follows it up with a snide comment about your clothes. So, yeah, this is weird for me. While I was sort of thinking my way round that whole mess, a doctor came and talked to me about physiotherapy and left me to it again. I was okay with that, ‘cause to be honest physio is difficult and tedious and I had bigger fish to fry. I wished Harmony would come find me. She’d know how to deal with everything. And it did need dealing with, I think. Perry had done the Perry-equivalent of ripping his heart out and handing it to me, and I couldn’t ignore that, even if in Harmony’s words I was an emotional vegetable who wouldn’t recognise a fucking signal if it bit me on the ass. Whatever that meant. Anyway, she did call me eventually, because it turned out the cops found her number in both mine and Perry’s wallets. She was going from one gig to another because ‘twas the season but promised to visit soon. She hung up before I could explain my vegetable problems though.

The nurse popped her head round the door.

“Your friend is in a stable condition.”

“Oh. What was he before?”

She laughed like I was so funny and sat beside me, fussing with my sheets.

“You must be awfully worried. It’s not often we get people coming in as each other’s emergency contacts. Not like that, anyway.” She looked at me from under her lashes. “You must be very close.”

“Uh, yeah.” Well, actually, he said that the amount I got beat up it was better him than Harmony, ‘cause he could never tell if we were off or on, and I guess he changed his too or something. I fidgeted. The nurse had this really odd look on her face like she might cry, and it sounds really sort of cold but I had an idea.

“Hey, uh, do you know what an emotional vegetable is?”

She looked at me for a moment and said, smiling, “No, but I could hazard a guess.”

“Okay, so say you know this person, and you know, you’re buddies and all, but it’s like, the other person turns out to probably want more or whatever and it’s like, they haven’t done anything about it but now you both know and… I dunno. What would you do?” The nurse’s face flitted between emotions and finally settled on understanding.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to talk to her and explain you still want to be friends, but nothing else.”

“Friend-zoning? A little harsh.”

The nurse smiled but as she opened her mouth to speak her pager went off.

“Oh, I have to go. Just… Think about it, you’ll come up with something.” And she trotted off. Then I realised she said ‘her’.

“I’m not gay!” I yelled after her.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night man,” the guy down the hall yelled back. “Now shut up, willya?”

I rolled my eyes. The next couple hours were boring. I had nothing to read and no one to talk to, and a deep ache starting in my bones. So I napped, woke up for lunch, napped some more. That’s about it, really. Hospital is the worst. I put on the TV but nothing was on. And the nurse was totally unreasonable about my attempts to make a syringe-and-saline powered car.

Harmony came by, as much as she could, what with work and all. In the end, I decided not to tell her about Perry, because the guy was sort of in a coma, and also, I dunno, it didn’t seem right. I mean, okay, I’d told Perry a bit about me and her, but mainly he just didn’t seem very interested. I mean, I figured Harmony’d just worry or something ‘cause of my emotional vegetables. I dunno, I was on a lot of pain meds.

 

Anyway, Christmas Day rolled round and Perry woke up. I almost didn’t tell him what day it was because he’d just spend the whole day pretending he was Santa’s best present or the gay Jesus or something. But whatever. I visited in his room and called him and asshole and that weird nurse was there looking like it was the best day ever, ‘cause I guess people really get into that reunion stuff. Perry had a hairline skull fracture, broken ribs, what is known in the trade as ‘multiple abrasions’ and someone had pretty much danced a jig on his leg. It all made me wish I’d managed to shoot more than the ear of that bastard. We had to give a statement to the police, which I was pretty edgy about but Perry told me not to be a schmuck. Apparently Barkley wanted to get us charged with trespassing and assault, but what with the fact that all his guys had rap-sheets that made me look like an angel, and the fucking Santa’s grotto of drugs they found in a safe room in his lake-house, it looked like it wasn’t going to stick. Anyway, between that and Harmony bringing a fifth of Jack’s and falling asleep across the bottom of Perry’s hospital bed because me and Perry couldn’t drink, I didn’t get to talk to Perry properly till the next day.

It was a bit fucking awkward, really, ‘cause I had to steal—well, borrow—a wheelchair to get down there. Luckily the nurse who caught me was the emotional vegetable nurse, who seemed pretty, well, emotional about me trying to go see Perry, so she got my ass off the floor and into the chair (look, I slipped, okay?) and walked me down there.

Perry was reading. You know he wears reading glasses? Like these little frameless things. It’s nutty, when you think about it. Anyway, he gave me an irritated look when I came in.

“You know, if you’re just going to come and bug me all the time I’m going to go back into the coma.” He marked his place in the book, and I think it’s pretty telling of Perry that he had a proper bookmark instead of an old envelope or candy-wrapper.

“I don’t get books in my room,” I told him.

“Probably couldn’t find any with enough pictures in for you.”

“Look, comics are not just for kids.” I snapped. It was an old argument, and kind of soothing for its familiarity.

The nurse made an odd little noise and we both stared at her.

“...Sorry.” She rushed out of the room. I turned back to Perry.

“Look, I just wanted to say… Thanks.”

Perry stared at me over his glasses and didn’t say anything. I cleared my throat.

“For like… Everything, you know? The medical bills and the job and you know, like the room and stuff... And saving my ass from the bad guys because they were gonna cut off my finger and some fucked up shit like that so like… Yeah.”

Perry had taken his glasses off and folded his hands over them. I would never play poker with Perry, even if I was counting the cards. When he wants to be, the guy’s like a wall. I decided to meet him head on.

“’Cause like, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person I’ve known except maybe Harmony and she’s pretty nuts who would like, give enough of a shit to like, run into a house full of bad guys and take a beating for me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who gives a shit about me full-time period. So I just wanted to say… Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve sunk a lot of money into that dumb ass of yours. It’s more like protecting an investment really.” Perry shrugged, not betraying anything except a mild interest.

“Aw, don’t be like that, I’m serious. You’re my best friend, man.” I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. “I… You know. You’re like my brother, but not an asshole.”

Perry didn’t say anything for a long moment. I could see the cogs going round in his head, neat as you please. It was actually a pretty tense moment for me. I didn’t think I’d ever forgive myself if he didn’t understand what I was saying.

“I can’t believe this shit,” he said, finally. “You’re gayer than me.”

“Fuck off, don’t be a jerk,” I said, relieved. “Are we cool?”

“As much as you can ever be considered remotely cool.”

I rolled my eyes and Perry went back to his book. I took one off the pile by his bed and wheeled off with it.

And… That’s about it I guess. We were in hospital over New Years, and I went down to Perry’s room and we had a midnight nip of bourbon each, smuggled in by Harmony. I spent a lot of time writing this down, it seemed important to make sure I didn’t forget any of it, you know? Like, I didn’t save Christmas again, ‘cause I was in the hospital, but it was still you know, good. Or whatever. Yeah.


End file.
